


When You're Done

by Rabid1st



Series: Supernatural AU Endings [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27606589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabid1st/pseuds/Rabid1st
Summary: Spoilers: Some Content Spoilers to 15x19Summary: Just some sappy Destiel to make the shippers feel better. The Wincesters won. God is good. The world is safe and at peace. Dean is restless. The show didn't end I just thought it did.Disclaimer: I own nothing about Supernatural. I am not even a Destiel fan. I did watch the show for the first 11 seasons, but only came back to it for the last two episodes. I was so out of the loop that I thought 15x19 was the series finale. This was a midnight labor of love to some fellow slash fans. You fought Sterek so hard in all those shipper couple polls. I hope you like my little gift. If you want to know what happened after it...there is a continuation of sorts as part of the Supernatural AU Endings series. But this story can stand alone for anyone who wants it to end here.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Supernatural AU Endings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019782
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	When You're Done

WHEN YOU'RE DONE  
by Rabid1st  
Supernatural  
Dean/Castiel  
All Audiences  
Spoilers: to 15x19  
Summary: The Wincesters won. God is good. The world is safe and at peace.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing about Supernatural. I am not even a Destiel fan. I did watch the show for 11 seasons, but only came back to it for the last two episodes. I was so out of the loop that I thought 19 was the series finale. This was a midnight labor of love to some fellow slash fans. I hope you like it.  
NOTE: I put a little coda to this coda in the comments...but now it is gone...and there is even more Supernatural AU Ending Fic. To be clear...this fic is meant to stand alone, but I sort of wrote more, because I couldn't stop here. 

_Carry on, my wayward son! There'll be peace when you are done. Selah!_

“Dean, over here!”  
Sam sat a little taller in his seat and waved as his brother came through the cafe door. Dean lifted his chin in acknowledgment, a smile brightening his weathered visage. Despite his slightly scraggly beard, he looked rested and refreshed. Though Sam noted that six months at sea had done nothing for Dean's fashion sense. He still wore combat boots, old jeans, fading flannel, and a green driving coat. It matched the olive camouflage-print duffel bag slung over one shoulder, but Sam was sure that was just a coincidence.  
“How were the whale wars?" Sam asked after their hug.  
“Remarkably peaceful,” Dean said. He tossed his bag in one chair and sat in another. “No sea monsters. No yeti.”  
“The yeti isn't from the Antarctic.”  
“Yeti could be migratory, Sam, you don't know.”  
The waitress arrived and Dean turned on the charm for a second or two to ensure they both had fresh coffee and pie. Sam took the moment to scan their surroundings. It was a habit he would never give up, he imagined, setting his back to the wall, facing the windows, covering the exits. The cafe had floor to ceiling windows on two sides. Beyond the expanse of glass, people bustled back and forth in an open plaza square. A fountain sprayed heavenward. A flock of mixed birds bathed and frolicked in the water. A passing truck honked and the birds rocketed upward. Dean flinched. He whipped around from his leering study of the retreating waitress to glare out at the ruckus of wings. It took both the Winchesters a beat or two to relax.  
“Lots of birds in the Antarctic,” Dean said. “Little bastards. Gulls and petrels. Albatrosses. Wandering albatrosses.”  
“The Fairy prion”  
“No relation to actual fairies.”  
“No angels?”  
“I didn't go looking for angels, Sam.”  
“I know. You went to forget.”  
“Can we not do this? I'm fully aware of my tendency to overreact to a trench coat or the sound of too many wings flapping. Let's leave it alone.”  
“I know. I'm sorry. I thought maybe Chuck would have resurrected him, too. He could have lifted him from the Empty like Lucifer...or Lilith...a last line of defense against...”  
“Me?"  
"Well, it would have been consistent with...'  
"Hey,” Dean cut him off. “Birds are just creepy. They used to be dinosaurs.”  
Sam shook his head, but let the subject drop. "Look, I want you to come back to my place. Stay. Meet Irene.”  
“Who looks nothing like Ruby, right?”  
Sam laughed despite his renewed worry. “I sent you a picture.”  
“Or eight.”  
Dean didn't recognize Irene Cooper at all. Maybe she'd died at the hands of some monster he'd later killed, maybe she'd just disappeared and come back. Everyone had been restored, not so much back from the dead as rebooted, into Jack's brand new world. It had been a real gut blow for the Winchester brothers. Nobody remembered them, not Bobby, not even their parents, a childless couple living happily in retirement. Nobody remembered the monsters, except as stories, which on balance, the way some of these people had died was probably a blessing.  
“It's weird that he preserved the Men of Letter's Bunker,” Sam said, off his own thoughts. “All the lore.”  
“Not really. It's just a clubhouse, full of old books. And it was his home.”  
“Do you ever feel...?”  
“Fictional?” Dean finished.  
Sam laughed and gave a slight shake of his head. “Like it never really happened.”  
“Not for one second.”  
The pie and coffee arrived and they applied themselves to the joy of eating together after so much time apart. They talked of Sam's final semester of law school and Dean's time on the merchant ships and fishing boats in the Southern hemisphere. 

Two weeks later Dean was ready to hit the road again. Sam's place was comfortable. Irene was sweet and smart and blonde and seemed totally human. He tossed some salt around to be sure. Sam had friends, buddies, good people. Seattle suited Sam. There were coffee shops and college kids. It had easy access to mountains or the ocean. Sure, it rained a bit more than was strictly healthy, but Dean felt certain Sam was building a safe life, a rewarding life. Sam had a Prius. Sam was thriving. He had pictures on his walls.  
Dean studied the ones of himself. There was one of him with Sam and their dad. Two kids and a man who no longer remembered them. Another shot was of Dean alone perched on the hood of the Impala. That one was taken by Irene just last week.  
“I'm not fictional,” Dean told the photo.  
“What?” Sam called from the kitchen.  
Dean didn't answer. He wasn't fictional. But he felt hollow, like an abandoned character, something out of the lore. It was like a piece of him was missing. He could lay his weary body down, but without that part, he couldn't rest. When he was out on the ocean, he'd told himself that missing part was Sam. Now he had Sam and Sam was happy and safe. Sam deserved this life. Maybe Dean just needed to find his own happy place in this world without hunters. Sam popped his head around the door frame.  
“Did you say something?”  
“I'm going to hit the road for a few days,” Dean said. “Maybe look for a house in the country.”  
“A house?  
"A place to live. Four walls. Fresh air."  
"Too many pigeons in the city?”  
“Funny, Sam! That never stops being funny.”  
“You want me to go with you? I can take a few days off work. It will be like old times.”  
It would be nothing like old times, because there would be nothing but small towns and roadside antique shops. They could pretend to hunt ghosts. Poke around a few ruins. The temptation was almost too much to resist, but Dean managed a dismissive shrug.  
“House hunting is not as dangerous as you might think, Sammie.”  
Sam grinned. “If you need back up, call me.”  
He was turning toward the kitchen when Dean said, “Promise you won't forget me.”  
“Only if you promise the same,” Sam said, spinning on his heel and striding across to give Dean a hug. 

The town of Selah, Washington was overflowing with Angels.  
Angels with a capital A.  
“They are flippin' everywhere, Sam!” Dean hissed into the phone.  
“I suppose it makes some sense,” Sam replied. “Selah is from Hebrew. It is like a choir direction in the Psalms. It means to take a moment to breathe and exalt the Lord. Maybe the former angel vessels were drawn to the name. Like you.”  
“I wasn't drawn to the name. I was just driving. Randomly.”  
“There are no coincidences, Dean.”  
“Except uh-huh. That's all we have now, Sam, coincidences. Stories. I wasn't drawn here. I wanted some gas and an actual bathroom.”  
“Do you want me to come? I can be there in a couple of hours.”  
“Maybe. Maybe, I'll just leave. Nobody's stopping me from leaving." A man across the street caught Dean's eye. He nearly dropped the phone. "Gah! Dude! It's Lucifer!”  
“What?”  
“He's...he's...working at a hardware store. He's got a company t-shirt. A pink t-shirt.”  
“I'm on my way.”  
Dean didn't have time to voice a protest. Sam had disconnected.  
The company t-shirt had a logo on the back of a bunny pushing a wheelbarrow. It wasn't even a little bit scary. Dean swallowed hard and glanced around again. He should call Sam back and tell him never mind. As he leaned against the bumper of the Impala, a woman who had once threatened to skewer his liver and feed it to him, crossed the street. She smiled and nodded at him as she passed. She had two adorable children in tow. Dean had a sudden recollection of the equally adorable little girls possessed by Lilith.  
This town was a waking nightmare for his anxiety issues. And, what kind of world was it where he was the one with paranoid delusions? He'd faced down vampires and werewolves and the Army of Heaven.  
“No monsters. No demons. No angels. This is just a town full of people Jack saved.”  
And then he saw it. His personal nightmare come true. Out of the corner of his eye Dean caught the flap and swirl of a mid-length, beige-fabric coat as the person wearing it turned into a parking lot a block and a half away. Dean resisted the urge to sprint down the street. He bit down on the impulse to shout after the barely glimpsed figure. He did that in his dreams, night after night, only to wake up alone. He'd run after such a figure at least a dozen times in the waking world, too. It always ended in embarrassment and awkward explanations. He resisted every urge for a full count of three seconds.  
It had been a man, right? Dark haired? Medium height? Medium build? He was moving fast, but he couldn't have gotten far. Dean stopped running when he reached the lot. Slightly winded, he paused for a few deep breaths.  
There was no sign of the coat-wearer. Cars. An old couple. A shopping cart. This was nuts. He was probably nuts. All he had to do to get the good drugs was to tell a doctor even a tiny fraction of what he believed to be true about himself. See, once upon a time, I was being tortured in Hell and an Angel of the Lord, gripped me tight and raised me from perdition. He thought maybe he would make air-quotes around that last part and try to say it exactly like Cas. He missed that gravely voice more than he would ever admit.  
“Excuse me,” the same voice said, behind him.  
Dean jumped and spun around, fist pulled back to punch. It was Cas. Hair. Build. Face. Trench coat. Son of a bitch.  
Dean couldn't breath. Why had he come here? Why had he stayed when he realized it was a town full of former angel vessels? Now the Not-Really-Cas was going to stare at him with vacant eyes and say something horrible...like...like...  
“Are you okay? Can I help you with something?”  
And there it was. The angel blade to the gullet Dean had always been expecting. Ever since he realized what a reset world meant, he'd been dreading this moment. Praying that Cas was still in the Empty felt wrong, but if he could be safe somewhere....and still somehow Cas? Maybe in heaven. Jack didn't seem to have any use for angels, what with being everywhere, but still Dean had some hope left. Maybe the new God had spared Castiel, like the bunker. But, of course, he'd restored Cas' vessel. Of course.  
Dean bent over, the weight of emotion pushing down on him. He tried to catch his breath. His lungs wouldn't inhale. His throat had locked down on a scream or maybe a guttural wail. Was he having a heart attack? He wasn't really out of shape. But he'd eaten a lot of pie and burgers. Maybe he had literally broken his heart. After everything he'd done and endured, maybe this was the final straw for his ticker.  
Maybe he should just kiss this guy. Or yell in his face. 'Who said you couldn't have it? All that new age crap about being? When did I ever say you couldn't have it, Cas?' Then after the guy punched him Dean could tell the judge, I thought he was this angel, who loved me. You know in a real way, now. Real love, because we are all real boys. Yeah. I just thought maybe it could be real, for a second. But, of course, it wasn't ever supposed to be...real.  
A heavy hand descended on his shoulder. Slid down to his elbow, lifting gently.  
“Are you alright?”  
“Stop talking,” Dean managed to say through clenched teeth. He straightened, pulling up out of his downward mental spiral with some effort. “I'm...fine. You just...you startled me.”  
He shook free of the familiar stranger's grip. The action, coupled with Dean's simple excuse, seemed to hit Cas' vessel with the same devastating impact Dean had just endured. Dean watched as the man's hand fell to his side, a fluttering, broken wing. His Adam's apple bobbed through a hard swallow as he stepped back, turning to the side. His gaze drifted toward the horizon. Was there a glistening in his eyes? Were those tears on his lashes? Dean couldn't see very well himself, so, maybe not. But he felt sure this Not-Cas was finding it hard to breathe.  
Dean shuffled a smidgen closer.  
“Personal space,” he said, forcing the words out.  
The other man tilted his head back to look up at the sky. There were definitely tears on his cheeks now, but his voice sounded very matter of fact as he said, "You don't expect a person to just pop up right behind you.”  
Dean blinked away the mist in his eyes and cast a line into the sea of hope rising in his chest.  
His mind hadn't quite caught up, but a sappy grin was spreading across his face as he said, “We've talked about this!”  
And somehow they were standing much closer together, though Dean couldn't remember stepping in. The man Dean really hoped was not Jimmy didn't react at all for what seemed like forever. Then, he lowered his chin and the corners of his mouth lifted into a little smile. They took a deep breath together, tensed muscles relaxing. Still looking away, the man, who was definitely Not-Jimmy, slid an arm around Dean's waist. Dean offered no resistance to the intimate embrace, even as the man turned so they were facing one another.  
Cas looked straight into Dean, then he pulled him very close and whispered a question against the sensitive skin just below Dean's right ear.  
“Did you know that Selah indicates a pause to praise the Lord?”  
“Sam told me, yeah!”  
“Dean!”  
“Cas!” 


End file.
